Venus in Blue Jeans

by Meg Benjamin

The corners of Wonder’s mouth turned up in a slightly guarded smile. “I assume that means you’ll be accompanying me to the town soirée?”

  “I assume it does.” Allie picked up the pile of plates and walked toward the doorway. Wonder bounded to his feet and opened the screen door for her, wearing one of the widest grins Cal had ever seen. Then he turned back. “Got a date for the street dance, Idaho, or was this just an idle chat?”

  Cal crossed his arms across his chest, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and petunias from Allie’s flowerpots. “I do believe I’ve got a date, Wonder. Assuming she doesn’t forget.”

  —

  Docia sat at her mama’s dinner table, thinking of Cal. He’d probably fit right in here. The ceiling in the formal dining room was high enough that he wouldn’t have to stoop, and the table was big enough to give him lots of legroom. She couldn’t remember where exactly Mama had picked it up. Either from a medieval European feasting hall or an East Texas bunkhouse.

  The two of them were grouped at one end, of course, since sitting at opposite ends of the table would have meant yelling at each other across the length of the room.

  The rays of the setting sun spread across the reddish Saltillo tile floor, warming the pink linen napkins and the everyday green Wedgewood. At least Mama hadn’t broken out the Limoges and the crystal. And she hadn’t killed a fatted calf. It hadn’t really been that long since Docia had been down to San Antonio.

  “Docia.” Mama gave her a dark look, and Docia realized she’d missed something in the conversation.

  “Yes, ma’am, sorry, what was that you said?”

  “I asked about your kitty. Is he all right?”

  “Oh.” Docia nodded. “Yes, he’s doing fine. That new vet I mentioned patched Nico up and sent him home. Janie’s looking after him for me tonight.”

  Her mama raised an eyebrow. She was dressed in turquoise silk palazzo pants with a matching tunic from somebody famous—she looked good in a sort of upholstered way. Mama had mentioned the designer’s name, but it had been a long time since Docia had paid any attention to things like the name on a dress label.

  “How old is this new vet? When did he get to town? Did you know him before your cat was shot?” Mama delivered her questions in rapid fire as she sliced through a piece of cheese.

  Docia rolled her eyes. “Mama, cut it out. He’s a nice guy. I took him out to dinner to thank him. That’s the end of it.” In fact, she hoped she was lying about that last part, but she wasn’t about to let Mama orchestrate her love life.

  “So you’re having a better time now? Going out to dinner and all?” Mama’s blue eyes were surprisingly shrewd. “Seems like you weren’t all that happy there in Konigsburg for a while.”

  Docia rolled a bit of soft cheese into a ball between her fingers. “I’m perfectly happy. I’ve got the shop. And my friends. You know, Janie and Allie and, well, Lee and Ken.” She took a quick mental inventory. Yep, those were the only Konigsburgers she could count.

  Mama gave her a dubious look. “Well, it’s nice you’ve got somebody up there, anyway.”

  Lourdes, Mama’s cook for over twenty years, swung through the door from the kitchen. She glanced at the bowl of greens in her hands, narrowing her eyes. Docia had a feeling it wasn’t exactly Lourdes’ dinner of choice. “Are you ready for this, Mrs. Kent?”

  “Yes, Lourdes.” Mama gave her a regal nod. “We surely are.”

  Lourdes set the bowl down dismissively and then shrugged. “Let me know if you need anything else. I can still fix a real dinner if you want it.” She pushed through the kitchen door again.

  Mama gave the bowl a disconsolate look of her own, and Docia shook her head. “Are you doing South Beach again? I thought I’d convinced you to go back to eating.”

  “Docia, the Magnolia Ball is next month and I’m co-chair. I’ve got to fit into that damn Oscar de la Renta or Merrilee Gainer will never let me forget it.” Mama smoothed her hands over her helmet of white blonde hair, diamond rings flashing. The soft fabric of her turquoise tunic fell back from her hands, revealing creamy wrists.

  “Mama, you’re almost as tall as I am. Your weight is perfect for your size and your age.” Docia emptied a large portion of salad onto her plate, then took a quick bite. “I can’t believe you’re wasting Lourdes’ time with this. The woman’s a born cook, and you’ve got her doing stuff you could get at some fast-food joint.”

  Mama shook her head. “Don’t start, darlin’. Let’s just agree to disagree. I think you look terrific, by the way. I bet that new vet is just panting at your heels.”

  Docia took a deep breath. Mama never gave up easily. “He’s a nice man.” Docia kept her voice neutral. “How are things with you?”

  Mama stabbed at her lettuce, then put her fork down. “Same as usual, I guess. Did Billy come see you?”

  “No.” Docia could feel her shoulders tensing, as they always did when Mama mentioned her father. She kept her gaze on her salad.

  Mama snorted. “That man! He promised me he’d go over to Konigsburg and check on you after your cat was shot. I’ll bet he forgot again.”

  “It’s okay, Mama.” Docia took a couple of bites, then pushed the plate away from her. “I told you I didn’t want Daddy there, anyway. I don’t need his help on this.” Or on anything else, but telling Mama that wouldn’t make her stop trying.

  Mama shook her head. “Docia, I’m tired to death of this…this thing between you two. Both of you are stubborn as the day is long. I want you to talk to your father. Just talk to him!”

  “It won’t make any difference.” Docia could feel a dull ache in her jaw, a sure sign that she was grinding her teeth again. “Talking won’t make any difference. There’s no point in getting into it again. Please just let it go.”

  “Both of you.” Her mother shook her head. “Both of you act like mules. Listen to me, Docia.” She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “I know you think your father made a mistake when he had Donnie investigated, but he thought he was helping you. And Donnie’s the one at fault, baby, not you or Billy. Just because one man might have caused you to make some bad decisions… Well, he took us all in, didn’t he? There’s no reason for you to hide out in Konigsburg. And as for your father and me, what happened between us is between us. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “Mama, it’s not about you and Daddy and…everything.” Everything included a couple of snapshots of Daddy with Miss Dallas County on his lap that had appeared in Texas Monthly, but Docia figured that was Mama’s problem. “I’m not hiding out in Konigsburg. I’m running a business. On my own. Without Daddy paying my bills. I don’t want him there because I can’t talk to him anymore without getting into a fight. Ever since that whole thing with Donnie, Daddy’s had his back up. We just can’t talk anymore.”

  “Nonsense,” her mother snapped. “Billy Kent could always talk to anybody. That man could talk his way into or out of anything.” Mama grimaced. “Or just about anything, anyway. And Donnie Branscombe might have wanted you to help him get his business going, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you too!”

  “Mama, he used me to get people to invest in his development, and then he got me involved in it too. And he tried to get Daddy, or he tried to get me to get Daddy. When push comes to shove, I was a marketing strategy for him. He could tell everybody he was marrying Billy Kent’s daughter and that Billy Kent was investing in his projects. He might have had some feelings for me once upon a time, but Daddy was the one he was really interested in.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  Docia’s throat tightened. She closed her eyes. Damn damn damn damn damn! Her mama was the only one who could do this to her and she did it every blessed time. Just because Mama could push her buttons, did that mean she always had to do it?

  She heard Mama’s step beside her, and then strong arms enfolded her, just as they had when Docia was small—well, smaller anyway. Docia figured she’d never been exactly small by most measurements.
<
br />   “Oh, honey, don’t cry now. It’s all right. You’re much too wonderful for a snake like Donnie Branscombe. Thank God you’re rid of him. Now you can find somebody who really appreciates you. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

  Docia smelled her mother’s Shalimar and relaxed into her cushioned embrace, the one place she’d always felt safest.

  “Tell you what.” Mama’s voice dropped conspiratorially. “Why don’t I have Lourdes fry us up a couple of toasted cheese sandwiches. Lots of butter. Fresh bread. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Docia opened her eyes to see her mother’s concerned blue gaze. She smiled. “I’d like it a bunch.”

  —

  Cal had dinner at Brenner’s again, wishing Docia was sitting across from him. He’d never much liked eating alone unless he was home with a book.

  A small, dark-haired woman with laughing eyes stopped at the table as he was finishing his salad. “Hi, Dr. Toleffson, I’m Janie Dupree, Docia’s assistant.”

  Cal waved a hand at the chair across from him. “Call me Cal. Would you care to join me? I just got started.”

  Janie shook her head. “No, thanks, I’ve already eaten. I just wanted you to know I’m looking after Nico at my place tonight. In case you were going to stop by Docia’s.”

  Cal blinked at her. He hadn’t realized other people in town knew he was making house calls. “That’s okay. You can call me if he has any problems. He was doing fine the last time I looked.”

  “He still is. Well—” Janie shrugged, “—he’s pissed at me for moving him. But Nico’s always pissed at somebody, so I guess that’s normal.” She grinned again, then headed for the door.

  After dinner, with nothing else to do, Cal found himself wandering toward the bookshop, as if he really had intended to check on Nico. The upstairs looked dark and empty, and Cal suddenly realized how much he’d hoped it might not be. This is bad, Idaho, you need to get a grip.

  He’d only just met the woman, only kissed her a couple of times. It was way too early to be getting obsessed. Light. Keep it light.

  He heard a car door slam and turned to see the object of his obsession trudging toward her apartment door. “Docia?”

  She stopped, squinting in his direction. “Cal? Is that you?”

  “I didn’t think you were due back tonight.” Great. Now she’d probably assume he was a stalker hanging around outside her door. Cal just hoped she wasn’t right.

  “I wasn’t. I decided to drive back after all.” Docia stepped into the light and Cal stared. Her eyes were tired, her hair trailed around her face, her shirt was half untucked. She looked glorious. Oh, shit, Idaho, you are in deep, deep doo-doo.

  He cleared his throat. “Have you had any dinner?” Jesus, he sounded like his mother.

  “Yeah, I had sandwiches with Mama.” Docia laid her fingers on his arm, lightly. “You look tired.”

  Cal kept his hands at his sides. If he touched her, he figured he’d have her on her back in about twenty seconds. “I found out about Liddy Brenner, and the street dance.”

  The corners of her mouth edged up in a slow smile. “Still want to risk it?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warm trail of her fingers along his sleeve, then opened them again to watch those green eyes. So much to see, so little time. “I want to see your Liddy outfit.”

  Docia shook her head. “I don’t go as Liddy. I’ve got my own favorite mythological character.”

  “And that would be?”

  “That, Dr. Toleffson, would be a secret. See you tomorrow.” She dropped her hand, giving him another slow smile, then turned and unlocked her apartment door.

  Cal took a breath, watching the door close behind her. He’d only just met her. For all he knew, she could have a dozen skeletons tap-dancing in her closets. Demons could be walking right beneath the surface of her smile.

  And he didn’t give a good goddamn.

  Chapter Seven

  Friday began the long weekend, when the tourists started descending in earnest from Austin and Houston and even a trickle from Dallas. Usually, Docia opened the bookstore at ten o’clock, like most of the businesses on Main. But today a crush of red hats and purple dresses filled the sidewalks outside, signaling the arrival of the first tour buses, and she’d opened at nine-thirty. By ten-fifteen, she was knee-deep in bling-draped, red-hat-wearing women.

  She’d just rung up the purchases for a woman with rhinestone earrings that brushed her shoulders when Chief Brody stepped up to the counter. “Ms. Kent,” he rumbled, “could I have a moment of your time?”

  “Of course.” Docia kept the feeling of unease out of her voice, motioning Janie to the cash register. “We can talk in the back.”

  In the storeroom, the chief glanced up at the cracked window. “Need to get that fixed, Ms. Kent. Letting your air conditioning out. Good to see you got a new lock on the window, though.”

  Docia nodded. “I put it in yesterday. They’re supposed to fix the window next week. Homer Rathburn’s waiting to get the glass from Houston. What can I do for you, Chief?”

  The chief pulled his notebook out of the pocket of his crisply pressed khakis. “Dub Tyler. Seen him lately?”

  “Dub?” Docia narrowed her eyes, trying to remember. “Last time was a few days ago, I think. Why?”

  The chief was very carefully keeping his gaze on his notebook. Tension began to knot the muscles across Docia’s shoulders.

  “He mention anything about going out of town?” Brody finally raised his gaze to hers, but his cool gray eyes gave nothing away.

  Docia shrugged. “No, but we’re not exactly close.”

  The chief put his pencil down, lowering his notebook slightly. “Clete told me he saw Dub in here last week. Was that the last time you saw him?”

  “No.” Docia frowned. “He came by the shop a couple of times last week. What’s this about?” And why should Clete Morris keep tabs on me?

  “Dub’s gone missing.” The chief’s face was still carefully blank, his eyes flat and dark.

  Docia felt a trickle of ice down her back. “Missing? Since when?”

  “His next-door neighbor saw his front door was open last night. Looked like someone had tossed the place. Dub was gone.”

  Brody’s voice sounded remarkably calm, given that he’d just dropped a small bombshell in the storeroom. The tension spread up from Docia’s shoulders to her neck. “Was there anything…did it look like he’d been hurt?”

  The chief’s lips thinned slightly. “No, ma’am. No blood. No signs of a struggle. Somebody just went through his stuff. Mind telling me what the two of you talked about the last time you saw him?”

  “The whole thing was pretty vague.” Docia remembered Dub’s smug smile. “He wanted me to hold onto something for him, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was or why he needed me to hold it for him or how long I’d need to keep it.”

  Brody frowned. “And you didn’t do it?”

  “No, I’m not that trusting. Damn it, I told that old so-and-so to get himself a security system. He could have afforded it.”

  “Why did he need one?”

  Docia leaned back against the utility table, pushing a coffee mug away from her rear. “Dub’s a rare book dealer. He specializes in Texana, real Texana, not the rinky-dink stuff I sell here. A lot of his stuff is worth big money.”

  Brody’s eyes narrowed. “How big?”

  “Hard to say. Several thousand, anyway. He does most of his buying and selling in direct contact with the customers. He doesn’t advertise. Even people in the business usually don’t know what he’s got or what he’s sold until it’s over. And even then, it’s all rumors. Dub’s never told me exactly what he made on a sale.”

  Brody lowered the notebook again. “So how do you know about the way he does business?”

  “This isn’t the first time Dub’s asked me to do something for him. He’s tried to get me to sell things once or twice before. That is,
he wanted me to serve as the middle man between him and a buyer.”

  Brody raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “And I didn’t do it. I don’t know enough about rare books to do it honestly.” Docia gathered her hair back from her face, fastening it with a banana clip from her pocket. Still early, and she already felt damp and sticky.

  “And you don’t think Dub was?” Brody’s voice rumbled low, his slate-colored eyes hooded.

  “I don’t think he always was, no.” Docia shrugged, feeling slightly guilty even though she knew Dub could be a pain in the rear. “He was a dealer. I don’t think he’d take anything he knew was stolen, but I don’t think he always asked a lot of questions about the provenance of a book or a document. If he needed to, Dub could always talk his way out of trouble.”

  “Provenance?”

  “Pedigree, sort of. Who owned a book when and who sold it to whom. Most rare books come with a list.” Docia folded her arms again. “Dub could be kind of cagey about that sometimes.”

  “Well, let’s hope he hasn’t gotten himself into something he couldn’t talk his way out of this time.” Brody closed his notebook, sliding it back into his pocket, then nodded at Docia. “Thanks for your time, Ms. Kent.”

  The bookstore was still full of lookers when Docia came out of the storeroom. She noticed a little girl holding her waffle cone perilously close to the coffee-table books, ignoring the sign about leaving food outside. Docia started toward her and then stopped.

  To the child’s left, a man was standing in front of the Business and Economics section, his broad shoulders blocking the aisle. His khaki slacks weren’t quite as crisp as Brody’s, but she’d bet they cost a lot more, as had his dark blue knit shirt, judging from the discreet embroidered logo. His graying red hair was clipped short, hugging the outlines of his smooth, tanned face. He turned his head and looked at her, one corner of his mouth sliding up in a sardonic grin. “Hi there, darlin’.”

  Docia sighed. It had only been a matter of time, after all. “Hi, Daddy, welcome to Konigsburg.”

  —

  Horace Rankin made a quick scan of the waiting room in his animal hospital. Most of the chairs were filled, as usual, and the parking lot was jammed. He needed to get back with Hobie about the bid on that lot next door. Horace’s lips spread in a slightly predatory grin hidden by his moustache. He purely loved negotiating.